


The Secret Poet

by The_Consulting_Werewolf



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 06:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Consulting_Werewolf/pseuds/The_Consulting_Werewolf
Summary: There is an anonymous poet on the loose and Yixing decides to help this poet finish their lines.





	The Secret Poet

**Author's Note:**

> a freaking fanxing fic, who knew
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, the poem you are about to read in this fic is by a very good friend of mine. He is a genius and the cutest potato ever, and I am glad he let me use it! Thanks Shakya! <3

When Yixing chose his major, he thought he was doing the right thing. Art has been a passion and fashion has been his first love. He had been ruining all the walls of his house with crayons since he could stand and he started his fashion scrap book when he was twelve. So, when the time came to decide on a career path, what else would he choose besides fashion design?

Don’t get him wrong though, he still loves the subject and he rather do this than anything else on earth. But whoever decided to make most of this semester dedicated to pattern making can go choke. Two and a half hours of measuring out a basic bodice has led to a permanent kink in his neck and when the lecture ends, he finds it hard to even straighten his whole body up.

“Fucking hell,” his seatmate and best friend, Tiffany, groans. Yixing gives her a sympathetic pat, he understands. He is packing his stuff and so is Tiffany when she asks, “Do you wanna grab something to eat before the next class?”

Yixing rolls his neck, hoping to dissolve those kinks but it doesn’t work. He replies to Tiffany anyway, “Yeah sure. You go ahead, I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Okay!” Tiffany says as she hops down her stool and walks out of the class. Yixing puts his messenger bag around his shoulder and groans when the leather strap digs into his flesh. Pattern making is torture, pure torture.

The design labs are at the ground floor and the bathrooms for men are pushed at the very end of the corridor, so it remains mostly empty and gets used only by the male students in the design department. He is walking down the corridor when his eyes fall on the barely used notice board a few feet away from the bathroom.

Yixing doesn’t know whose bright idea it was to put a notice board at this end of the corridor where hardly anyone would see it but today it is different. The notice board has a section that is a chalkboard and someone has scribbled Mandarin on it. Besides the two out-dated notices, the scribbles does attract his attention—mostly because a glimpse of his native language at a school in a foreign country is arresting, and secondly, the handwriting is immaculate and concise, rather nice to look at.

Then he reads it:

_Secret emotions bloom like flowers._

_They hide themselves in grenade buds_

_And pop open uncertainly_

Yixing smiles, it is not half bad. He doesn’t know if it is a quote or poem, but he likes it. He thinks the analogy is rather neat, but for some strange reason he feels like it is unfinished. He smirks, an idea forming in his head. He has some marking chalks in his bag, so he grabs a pink one out and writes on the board:

_On sudden days._

He feels quite satisfied with that and heads for the bathrooms next.

 

A week later, Yixing is sitting in a café close to the college, wracking his brain. The end of this term, he has to put up a small collection of designs, at least five or so ensembles. Even though end of term is far away, everyone knows that they need to get started on it as soon as they can. And one must start with a theme, which Yixing doesn’t have. He has his two notebooks open, a page filled with doodles on one of them and the tabs on his laptop are all opened to Pinterest. And he has been here for an hour. But nada.

He picks up his cup of latte and when he takes a sip, he grimaces. Somewhere his hot hazelnut latte has turned into a cold hazelnut latte. A deep chuckle beside him makes him look up and he finds a rather attractive waiter grin down at him. The man is tall, has dark hair pushed back off his forehead and he is handsome, especially with that smile on his face. He is dressed in a washed out pink shirt and the standard dark brown apron but Yixing thinks he basically looks like a supermodel in that.

“Hey, earth to you!” the guy says, waving his hands and Yixing realises he had been staring so much, he basically zoned out. He shakes his head and grins, “Sorry, were you saying something?”

The guy laughs and Yixing sees a glimpse of gums. “I was asking if you want me to make another cup. You have been sitting with that for an hour now?”

Yixing looks down at his cup and he feels his face getting warm. He says, “Well, I think I would need that.”

The guy picks the cup up and smiles, “I will be right back.”

The waiter leaves but Yixing knows the blush on his face remains. The guy does return in a few minutes with a fresh cup. Another blinding smile is sent his way and Yixing’s insides melts. Maybe he should come to this café more often.

Yixing has class at two, so he finishes his coffee and leaves after paying. The cute waiter waves at him and Yixing almost walks into the glass door. He gets to class on time but all the coffee has his bladder acting up, so he excuses himself halfway through the lecture to go to the bathroom.

As he exits the bathroom, he looks at the notice board and to his great surprise, he finds three more lines scrawled underneath his line:

_Joy blooms yellow, sprinkled with red._

_In the sun, the red turns to blue sometimes_

_Because colours are like that,_

Yixing laughs softly as he notices the comma. So, the anonymous poet wants him to add another line? Well, two can play the game, so he returns to class and when it ends, he gets his marker chalk (a green one this time) out and adds:

_They don’t always make sense._

 

“So, you are telling me, this mystery person is writing you poetry?” Yukhei asks.

Yixing rolls his eyes at his friend. Yukhei is his junior and his mother knows Yixing’s mom, so when Yukhei enrolled in this college, Yixing had to be the responsible one and help Yukhei settle. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

Yukhei nods, “Of course I was!”

“No, you weren’t!” Yixing flails his hands and then bites down on the straw, sucking in the thick milkshake. They are currently at a McDonalds’, grabbing lunch. They both have classes today but they start late, so they decided to hang out for some time. He swallows down the oreo strawberry milkshake and says, “They write three lines, I write one. I think there is a whole poem somewhere the poet is writing and I am excited to know what they write next.”

Yukhei narrows his eyes as he shoves fries into his mouth. “It is sorta creepy, but also sorta romantic. Do you think you have a secret admirer?”

Yixing rolls his eyes again. “That is not possible.”

Yukhei shrugs, “Why not? You are cute, you have dimples and look plenty harmless.”

Yixing opens his mouth and then shuts it. He doesn’t understand how cute, dimples and being harmless correlates but then again who the fuck knows what goes on in Yukhei’s brain, so he doesn’t comment.

An hour later, he is rushing towards the bathroom, eager to see what is new on the chalkboard today and to his delight, he finds three lines again:

_Sorrow is a dense purple, growing in the shade._

_It moves gently in the wind_

_Sprinkling dew_

Yixing pulls out a marking chalk, blue this time, and he thinks hard because this is a tough one, furrowing his brows. After some time, he smiles as he slowly writes:

_All over the floor_

Classes are cancelled today in the design lab, so Yixing and Tiffany decide to hang out outside, enjoy the late autumn afternoon. Some time later, Yukhei finds them, dragging his boyfriend, Jungwoo with him. Yixing is sometimes flabbergasted at how someone as loud as Yukhei managed to get someone as soft-spoken as Jungwoo to date him. Jungwoo is an angel and he buys them all cold drinks as they laze about and just chat.

Yixing gets up to find a trashcan and everyone soon hands him their empty cans. He throws them a glare as he walks away. He finds one tucked beside a vending machine and he is walking towards it when one of the cans in his arms slips out of his hands and falls to the ground. He sighs and he is about to bend down to pick it up when a bejewelled hand with long, tapered fingers picks it up and as Yixing follows the hand to a face, he gasps. It is the waiter guy from that café! The waiter guy recognises him too and he grins, “Hey, cold latte guy!”

Yixing grins at the nickname, and he knows his face is turning red judging by the overall increase of his body temperature. The guy looks down at the cans in Yixing’s arms and he understands. He grabs another can from Yixing’s grasp and chucks them into the can. Yixing follows and he huffs, “I have a name you know.”

The guy chuckles, “Well, then mister cold latter, what is it?”

“Zhang Yixing.”

“You are Chinese?”

“Born and raised in Changsha.”

The guy chuckles as he extends a hand, “I am from Guangzhou.” He slips into Mandarin as he speaks, “Wu Yifan.” His bangs are down and he is dressed in this oversized black sweater with light acid washed jeans and Yixing thinks he looks great.

A big grin blooms on Yixing’s face at hearing his native language. He doesn’t know any other Chinese people beside Yukhei and his roommate. He takes Yifan’s hand and shakes it. Yifan’s hands are warm and soft. Yixing says, “Fashion design, you?”

Yifan says, “Visual communications.”

“Gege!” Yixing recognises the voice and turns his head around to find Yukhei making his way towards him. Yifan finally releases his hand and Yixing almost feels sad about it. Yukhei joins them and he gazes at Yifan with awe as he says, “Whoa, you are the first guy I met who’s taller than me!”

Yixing palms his face as Yifan laughs. They introduce each other but Yifan has to head to his class and he informs them both to come at the café anytime they want after class, he will treat them with free cookies. Yukhei and Yixing watch him leave and Yukhei suddenly elbows Yixing lightly under the ribs. “Gege, he was hot. Take his number next time, eh?”

Yixing swats at the back of Yukhei’s neck. “Oh come one, he could be straight for all I know!”

“Nah, he was giving you heart eyes.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Yes, he was.”

They keep bickering as they make their way back to the grounds. Yukhei finally stops when Jungwoo turns his head to look at him, a soft smile on his face. Yukhei flops down beside him and wraps his arms around him, pulling him into his chest and kissing his cheek. Jungwoo giggles, Tiffany makes gagging noises and Yixing feels a tad bit envious.

He wants to be hugged like that too one day. Tiffany can make all the gagging noises in the background to that as well. For some reason, his brain throws up the image of Yifan grinning at him next.

 

It is a Friday today of this long damn week and Yixing is exhausted but distracted. There had been no new lines this week. He wonders if the anonymous poet was okay. The last four days felt so weird and empty without his on-campus Keats. But he is bound by habit, so when class gets over, he flees. To his absolute delight, he finds three new lines again!

_Anger is grey and invisible_

_And as it grows older, it softens_

_Becomes white or black_

Yixing licks his lips as he ponders. He reads back to the third stanza and decides to go with the falling theme as he writes down:

_One day it falls, but never really dies._

It seems fitting; emotions are colours and colours are flowers and flowers must fall. Happiness is subjective, sorrow is consuming and anger is a dull ache. Yixing smiles, he wishes to meet his anonymous poet one day and learn more about this beautiful mind of them.

 

It is a Saturday night when he follows Yukhei and Luhan, his roommate, to a party. He doesn’t want to be here but he also was bored. He was very close to re-watching The Haunting of The Hill House for the third time when Luhan barged into his room and declared they were going to the party. Yixing simply nodded and put on a clean shirt.

But now an hour later, his head throbs and the beer isn’t getting him drunk. So, he decides to head to the dance floor. Yukhei has abandoned him to go make out with Jungwoo while Luhan is busy chatting up this short man with a dangerously sharp jawline.

He finds Tiffany among the crowd and they shout at each other like they are seeing each other after years and not only a day. They dance together, laughing and just in general having fun. A slower jam comes on and Tiffany grins before putting her hands on his shoulders. He puts a hand on her waist and they move as Tiffany starts complaining about the lack of single, gay women at this party. Yixing shares the same sentiment.

Suddenly, his eyes find something bright red at his peripheral. He looks to his right and finds Yifan standing at the side, sipping his drink, dressed in a red shirt. The top few buttons are undone and as he leans down to talk to a girl, the collars pull and Yixing gets a glimpse of chest and his eyes widen. Tiffany, curious, follows Yixing’s gaze and she whistles, “Who the fuck is that?”

“Wu Yifan, visual communication, works at that new Capricorn café near the subway station.”

Tiffany looks at Yixing, eyebrows raised as she says, “You know I was being rhetorical, right? And how do you even know all this?”

Yixing shrugs, “Our paths have crossed.”

“And you don’t have his number?”

Yixing frowns down at her, “Listen, do you want me to look like some overeager fool?”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt.”

Yixing chooses to ignore that terrible piece of advice. He looks across the floor again but to his dismay, Yifan is gone.

 

Come Wednesday, Yixing drags his feet to the board. He has been sad about his lack of a love life after the party. On Tiffany’s advice, he decided to search for Yifan on Facebook and found his profile over the weekend. So far, he knows Yifan speaks four languages, has lived in Canada, played basketball, still plays basketball, likes rap music and a couple of years ago his hair was platinum blond, which almost gave Yixing nosebleed at how dam hot Yifan looked. There is no mention of a girlfriend, or boyfriend for that matter. But there is a picture of him in a pool with no shirt on and Yixing saw tattoos. Yixing spent the next hour going through Yifan’s photo album. Just another Sunday night.

He smiles a little when he finds the new lines:

_Love is a green flower, with hints of blue in the sun._

_You miss it often, unless you look close_

_They bear fruit sometimes, and they have seeds,_

He decides he likes this stanza the most. Flowers turn into fruits and fruits to seeds, so the words come naturally to Yixing as he writes:

_But they grow into trees just as often as they don’t._

Yixing thinks that is a bit depressive perhaps but he likes to be realistic and stalking Yifan on Facebook has officially send him to the Sad and Single Town, so excuse him. He returns to class and, Tiffany, as soon as the bell rings, suggests food and Yixing cannot help but agree.

 

Luhan picks up on Yixing’s gloomy mood and he badgers Yixing so much that Yixing finally breaks and tells him about his stupid crush on Yifan and then about the poetry. Luhan listens carefully and when he is done, Luhan says, “So, you like Yifan but you also like your secret Tennyson?”

“What!” Yixing cries. “When did I say I liked Tenny—I mean the anonymous poet?”

Luhan cocks his head to the side and sends Yixing his best I-am-not-impressed look. “You sound so impressed by this person bro. You are attracted to this person, at least intellectually. And you are attracted to Yifan, physically? Like he is hot.” Yixing had shown Luhan the pictures. “I mean, if I didn’t meet that cutie at the party that day, I would want to know more about mister Wu.”

Yixing chuckles, shaking his head, “You are terrible.” He sighs as he plops another cookie into his mouth. Luhan had sacrificed a packet of chocolate chip cookies from his secret stash just for Yixing. “Anyway, who was that cutie of yours?”

Luhan gets the dreamiest smile on his face as he says, “Kim Jongdae, management major. He has the cutest fucking smile I have ever seen.”

Yixing rolls his eyes. “Everyone you like has the cutest fucking smile ever.”

“Yes, but Jongdae’s smile is literally an emoticon!”

Luhan goes on waxing about Jongdae for some time and Yixing listens. Finally, when Luhan is done, he suggests, “Hey, I have an idea, why don’t you arrive early at the board, maybe you can find out who the poet is!”

Yixing nods; he won’t lie, he has been thinking about it too. He even recognised the pattern—the poetry is there on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. Today is a Tuesday, so he only has to wait another day.

 

On Thursday, he walks into the Art building bright and early, an hour before his class starts. He doesn’t know if this will work but as he turns the corner, he gasps but puts his hand over it to muffle the noise.

 A tall man with a baseball cap on is writing on the board, rings glittering on his fingers. Yixing comes closer, slowly as to not spook the guy. The guy is almost done, putting down the last few words in the third line when Yixing decides to surprise him, “Secret emotions bloom like flowers.”

The guy turns around and Yixing’s eyes widen. He knows this man, he know that gummy smile as he murmurs, “Yifan?”

“Yixing?”

Yixing bites his lips, trying to fight the grin on his face. He points at the board, “You have been writing that?”

Yifan nods, “Don’t tell me you have been adding the fourth lines.”

“I, I have,” Yixing chuckles. He looks back at the board and reads, “Hiding in grenade buds, popping open suddenly…so we are repeating the first stanza.”

Yifan chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, “Well, it seemed fitting to round it up, tie it down? So, what would you add today?”

Yixing licks his lips as he says, “Hmm, I think…” He takes the chalk from Yifan’s hand and writes down— _On uncertain days._

Yifan laughs, “Ah, swapping out the sudden and the uncertain.”

Yixing grins, “You are good at this.”

“So are you.”

Yixing hands Yifan back the chalk and the latter smirks, “You know, I have been wondering for the last few weeks who was finishing my stanzas, and I am glad it is my cute, dimpled patron.”

Yixing remembers what Yukhei said about his dimples and he smiles wider. Yixing chuckles, “I almost developed a crush on the anonymous poet. Kind of glad it is you too.”

Yifan’s cheeks colour a little and his gaze becomes coquettish as he asks, “So, coffee?”

Yixing nods, the smile refusing to go away. Yifan too seems like he can’t stop smiling either.

  

* * *

 

 

Secret emotions bloom like flowers.

They hide themselves in grenade buds

And pop open uncertainly

On sudden days.

 

Joy blooms yellow, sprinkled with red.

In the sun, the red turns to blue sometimes

Because colours are like that,

They don’t always make sense.

 

Sorrow is a dense purple, growing in the shade.

It moves gently in the wind

Sprinkling dew

All over the floor

 

Anger is grey and invisible

And as it grows older, it softens

Becomes white or black

One day it falls, but never really dies.

 

Love is a green flower, with hints of blue in the sun.

You miss it often, unless you look close

They bear fruit sometimes, and they have seeds,

But they grow into trees just as often as they don’t.

 

Secret emotions bloom like flowers

Hiding in grenade buds,

Popping open suddenly

On uncertain days.


End file.
